The Opposite of Silence
There are northern fields of snow,
Being able to imagine them otherwise is for the strong-minded only,
Tunnels are formed by birches bowing to the tyrannical snowflakes,
Through which a sled will cruise.
Hark! The Yukon Quest and Iditarod Glory, the small kings who mush much,
Referent to a fixed point moving farther into the past each day.
Dogs on small chains and hay-bedded houses display themselves unwittingly:
Circling frantically as the chain allows.
Straining to lick as the chain allows.
Sitting in arctic nobility (chain just incidental, here).
They appear a cyclonic unity of fever to run and barkbarkbarks.
Is this a bred affinity, or an animal yelping to freedom?
The day is already dark, the interior of the mutt equally so.